


Lost in Your Mind

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Multi, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: When Aramis finally gets the threesome he's always wanted... there's the issue of performance anxiety.  Well then. (post-series)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr for the prompt, "their first time together, Aramis is having major performance anxiety and can't get in the mood... that is, until Porthos gets over his own nervousness and kisses Anne. Their combined gorgeousness and the spark of ridiculous jealousy (for both!) does the trick." 
> 
> aka, Aramis is a dumb nerd.

Aramis tries, desperately, not to think. But after the third time failing to actually work his fingers enough to untie Porthos’ shirt, Porthos takes pity on him and lifts his hands to gently curl around Aramis’ wrists – drawing his hands back. The bottom drops out of Aramis’ stomach. 

Porthos gives him a small, encouraging smile which only serves to make Aramis feel slightly more mortified. “I’ll do it,” he tells him gently. “Just relax.”

The problem, of course, is that Aramis _can’t_ relax – has found that he no longer knows how to relax. He watches in a quiet horror as Porthos withdraws, still smiling kindly, and effortlessly undoes his shirt ties. More mortifying, Anne reaches out a moment later, touching at Porthos’ shoulders and helping him to pull the shirt off. Aramis watches in a dull kind of longing as Porthos undresses down to his underclothes and Anne sits, demur, beside him, feet tucked up under her gown. 

Aramis, really, shouldn’t be stressing out the way he is. This is something he’s wanted – something he’s wanted for so long, never dared allowed himself to dream or think of it. It’s been years since their positions have been confirmed – queen, minister, and general. It’s taken years, still, for this to feel secure – for Aramis not to fear that he’ll upset Porthos, that he’ll leave Anne feeling uncertain and inadequate. 

And now it’s finally happening and Aramis can’t move for fear of messing it up, of it all coming toppling down. 

“Aramis,” Anne says, gentle and kind as she always is – leaning over and touching his cheek with her hand. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing out shakily. 

“We can stop,” Porthos says, his hand cupping Aramis’ knee.

“No!” Aramis says, hurriedly, shaking his head. “No,” he says, a little less severe now. “I’m alright. Just… excited.”

It sounds like a weak excuse and he knows it – and both Anne and Porthos know it, since they give one another a brief glance, the slant of Anne’s eyebrows as betraying as the twist of Porthos’ mouth in a thoughtful line. If Aramis weren’t so nervous, he’d be mortified that the two of them have seemed to have adapted a silent language of communication about Aramis. 

“Nervous, more like,” Porthos tells her. 

She nods and smiles sweetly at Aramis, because she knows he’ll look betrayed – and he does. 

“Yes,” she says, “I believe that’s the problem.” 

Aramis almost protests – but he’s never been good at lying, much less to Anne or to Porthos, even less so with the two of them there together and conspiring against him. He feels, quite suddenly, overwhelmed and very small. 

Porthos turns towards Anne with a small frown. Anne tilts her head – that thoughtful, playful way she does when she knows what she’s about to say but she’s about to tease.

“I believe we should motivate him, General du Vallon,” she says, sweet as can be.

“I believe you’re right, Your Majesty,” Porthos agrees with a sage little nod. 

Neither of them look at Aramis, who is beginning to fidget and feel uncertain again. He startles when Porthos reaches out and cups Anne’s face – gently, as gently as he does whenever he’s about to kiss Aramis or Elodie. He draws the queen in and tilts her chin up. 

She breathes out, a small little gust of breath, and her eyes flutter closed – the same way they do whenever Aramis is about to kiss her. 

Aramis watches in a steely silence as Porthos ducks his head down and kisses Anne – calm and gentle, not overly passionate but respectful. They have, over the years, grown closer – and they wouldn’t be here in bed with Aramis if they weren’t willing for this to happen. It’s still something of a shock to watch the two people he loves kissing one another, when they’re usually the ones kissing _him._

It’s strange to see the habits he knows too well reflected back at him. The way Porthos’ thumb fans out over Anne’s cheek. The way Anne opens her mouth after a soft breath, melts forward and claims in that quiet way she does. The way Porthos cradles her head like he’s afraid of breaking her, letting her set the pace but strong and passionate in his advances. 

Aramis has never been more jealous in his entire life. 

It hits him so intensely that he almost can’t breathe for a moment. He has felt jealousy before – feels jealousy every day, really, whenever a beautiful woman looks at Porthos, whenever a visiting dignitary kisses Anne’s hand for a moment too long. 

But it is another feeling entirely to feel jealous of both Porthos and Anne at once. Anne for kissing Porthos. Porthos for kissing Anne. Both of them for not kissing him first.

He is, he realizes, painfully hard. He scrambles forward as the two break apart, lingering close. He reaches for them helplessly and Porthos laughs as Anne turns to catch him, pulls him forward, and kisses him sweetly. Porthos’ hand curls tight into Aramis’ hair and holds there as he kisses Anne.

Aramis makes a pathetically soft sound at the attention – and he doesn’t even care. He never wants either of them to stop touching him.


End file.
